Chapter 42
42 The good news is, my bruised and aching hands have acquired a protective crust of blood and mud. My knees and shins have fresh bruises from kneeling on increasingly exposed irregular rock. I’m parched, panting for air, and warmed only by my own efforts. The constant illumination of the dangling bulb in the tunnel feels like it’s burned its way into my skull, adding to the pounding heat in my temples. My gown-sized T-shirt is stuck on me like muddy paper mache—you could cut it in half, slide me out of it, and use it to cast a torso just like from ancient Rome. The bad news is, I’ve moved enough so that my raw ankles haven’t scabbed. There’s a slow but constant trickle of turgid gummy blood from beneath the heavy iron manacles. Small heaps of ancient dirt and tiny pits, some no wider th
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